“Good. Good. Feeling good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” And I know for a fact that he’s doing what the doctors told him to do. Mom was worried sick about him, and she’s kicked it into high gear, making sure he’s watching his sodium and all the rest.
Then there’s always a pause. Not a long one, but it’s long enough to notice.
“So, that’s all I have. Just wanted to be sure you’re doing okay over there.”
“I’m good.”
“How’s that young man of yours?”
“Sam?” At first, I’d smile and say, “He’s great. He’s been working a lot.” Which was and is an understatement. He’s been working like crazy. He leaves at the ass-crack of dawn and doesn’t come home until 8:00 or 9:00 at night. The funny thing is, he’s been staying here, with me. And it’s not like we discussed what we were doing. We didn’t. It just sort of happened, and it’s like we jumped from that fun, sexy, getting-to-know-you part of dating right into the proverbial old married couple.
Let me elaborate… Sam goes to work. When he comes home, he heads to his place to shower and change, then he comes over to my place to stay. I cook dinner for him every night, which he seems to appreciate even if it’s only hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. Then he falls asleep on the couch. I wake him up when I head to bed. He follows me, strips down to his boxers, gets into bed and curls into me, essentially spooning me, then he falls asleep.
Now take that day and multiply it by twelve.
Twelve. Long. Days. Of the same thing. Hell, last night, I caught myself before I said, “How was your day, dear?” as he stepped over my threshold.
On top of that, I’m running out of things to cook for the man. I’m used to it being only me, and before Sam, if I couldn’t think of something for dinner, I’d eat peanut butter and crackers or better yet, cheese and crackers. Now I’ve got to plan. Hell, I’ve got a running grocery list next to my computer on my desk so when inspiration hits, I can jot down what I need.
I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I’ve even subscribed to a website devoted to recipes that promise “Delicious meals in less than thirty minutes.”
Ugh. When did I becomeher?
I crave the ease of my cheese and crackers meals.
Not only that, I’m not getting any …you know. Nope. No nookie for me. Sure, he kisses me when he comes into my house and right before he goes to sleep.
And do you want to know something? I like it.
I actually like it.
I keep expecting him to stay over at his place, but when he knocks on my door, I welcome him in. I even asked him about it one night. “Do you want to go over and stay at your place?” I mean, his is bigger.
“Mine feels cold compared. Your place feels like home.”
And there you have it.
Even though I feel like that 50s housewife from that time I made him macaroni and sauce. Hell, I even take his dinner plate over to him on the sofa because he’s so tired from work. He’s usually got a game on the television, which keeps him engaged. We barely talk about anything while he eats. There’s some mumbling and nodding and lots of dozing.
It’s sad really.
I find myself enjoying his soft snores.
I should be annoyed. Angry even. I mean, I’ve got a perfectly hot boyfriend who has turned into a boring friend.
The thing is, he says the sweetest things to me. Usually when we get into bed, he wraps me up in those big arms of his, and he whispers things to me. Case in point, he told me I smelled nice one night. Another night, he kissed me in that spot I like below my ear and said, “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
How could anyone not enjoy that?
In my Sam fantasies, I never saw this particular life. The one where he works all day and comes home to eat, then sleep. TheLeave It to Beaverlife. Not that I’m dissing women who do. It’s just not me. And it’s not about the meal prep. I love to eat, and I don’t mind cooking. It’s just the sexy romance is gone, and it sucks because there wasn’t enough of it to begin with.
I need to stop thinking so negatively.
I mean, maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe tomorrow Sam’s going to show up with a big box of candy and a smile as he whisks me off to eat at the taco truck down the road.
